Variations on a Theme
by somewhereelsee
Summary: AU, future, unrelated one-shots with the theme: Nathan plays basketball and Haley teaches English. See how much slower relationships progress other than married in high school after three months of dating.
1. Behavioral Patterns In Relation To Keys

Have I mentioned I don't own shit? 'Cause I don't own shit. Though I wish someone other than Mark Schwahn owned OTH, he doesn't treat his toys very nicely. At least I don't throw them off bridges.

First of three, theoretically. This would be the shortest. Two is complete. Three doesn't really have an end in sight. My attempts to salvage their S1 personalities in various situations as older, experienced, worldly persons. Judge my success.

Things you need to know: Nathan and Haley are neighbors with a very strange relationship with their house keys, and there are time jumps. Things you don't need to know: how Haley the teacher affords an apartment in the same building as Nathan the professional basketball player. Rent-controlled? Relative owns the building? Blackmailing the landlord? Whatever you need to make it work.

**Behavioral Patterns In Relation To Keys**

She's shy.

Her eyes are shy. That small grin she offers him every chance meeting is shy. Even the way she fumbles with her keys as they stand across the hallway is shy.

It's what sets her apart. No female over the age of 16 is ever anything close to hesitant around him. They're flirty, bold, aggressive, prone to fainting, and on rare occasions inappropriate enough to shock even him. Her shyness drags out the polite and cordial young man that his mother tried so desperately to raise him to be.

Her thumbnail flicks along the edge of her key ring as she refuses to meet his eyes, and he smiles more than smirks. "Well, have a good night." His voice drops low and once she blushes red, the smile pulls into a smirk.

He adjusts the strap of his gym bag and manages to feel slightly bad for embarrassing the girl, but it's just so easy.

And so obviously innocent. As if anything would ever happen there.

* * *

"Oh, hi." The surprise, almost a squeak really, is obvious in her voice, and he startles while unlocking his door.

"Hey," he offers cordially, eyes flickering over his shoulder, before he tosses his gym bag into the entryway. He pauses, hand in mid-air and eyes wide, and slowly turns around. Thankfully, her back is to him, securing the lock, which gives him a moment of silent, non-judgmental appraisal.

There is nothing close to shocking about her outfit. A snug and impossibly soft looking green sweater and a fitted black skirt, short but nowhere near indecent. Still, though, far from her usual t-shirt and jeans.

She slowly spins, stashing her keys in a clutch, and he quickly schools his expression into what he thinks is normal. It's an effort to keep his eyes in his head, amazed that there's any cleavage at all on display. "You're dressed up," he comments, careful to keep his voice neutral.

"Open house night. Have to impress the parents." She quirks a shy grin and sets off down the hallway, waving over her shoulder. "Good night."

_Yeah, a bunch of single fathers who want to—_"Night," he calls back, throat oddly dry.

* * *

Damn. He curses mentally at the sight that greets him outside his apartment door. She's bent over, searching through her oversized purse on the floor. "Hi," he croaks and shuts his door behind him.

"Hello," she answers, distracted. Finally, she stands, keys in hand, and he swallows again. Have her t-shirts always been that tight and that short? His eyes focus on the band of skin revealed where her t-shirt and jeans don't quite meet. "Off to work?" she questions, nodding awkwardly to his gym bag.

"Yeah," he replies faintly, forgetting to be polite and rushing down the hallway.

* * *

His smirk broadens as he approaches. Oh, she's still impossibly shy. It's just that, somehow, it's no longer impossible. And he has easily come to terms with that.

"Need a hand?"

His voice prompts her to jump in place and she flashes a small smile, shifting a bag of groceries into his arms. "Thank you," she mutters, hands finally free to slide the key into place. Her door opens with ease and the bag switches hands again.

He keeps the smirk firmly in place, the invitation out there, but all she does is duck her head and hip-check the door closed. His shoulders sag but he has only himself to blame. He knows she wouldn't recognize the signal groupies respond to and isn't the type to make the first move.

The door sweeps open behind him and he turns in curiosity. There is nothing shy about the way she grabs his face and jerks his lips down to meet hers. Or the way she leverages him into his apartment and against the wall.

* * *

"Excuse me." The voice startles him and, to his embarrassment, manages to heat his face. He clumsily gets the door open before turning to face her.

Her eyes barely lift to meet his gaze and he forgets the tall man standing next to him. Between the two of them, they take up most of the hallway.

"Hi, I'm Devon, Nathan's teammate." He offers his hand and she takes it hesitantly, the shake light and quick.

"Haley. I live here." She motions jerkily to the door behind her and Devon nods. They stand in awkward silence until she flushes bright red and spins around to unlock her door.

"We're heading to the bar on 31st at 9. Team celebration thing. You're welcome to come. Nate'll leave your name at the door," Devon volunteers when she looks over her shoulder to say goodbye.

Her hand shoots up to tuck a mass of hair behind her ear and she smiles nervously. "Maybe."

He stares at her closed door until he's slapped on the chest. "She's cute, man."

Yeah. Cute. Nervous. Jumpy. Shy. Exactly.

* * *

He curses mentally, letting his head drop back and slam against the wall. She glances up to give him a strange look.

Then she's bent over again, searching through knee high boots that apparently contain her apartment key. Except this time the skirt is tighter and shorter and the top offers an excellent preview of her natural assets. And she hasn't been shy all night, laughing with Devon and being cheerfully introduced to his other teammates.

"So. How are you?"

He opens his eyes to find her unlocking her door. Her other hand clutches some money, her driver's license, and what looks like pepper spray. He shrugs, knowing she can't see him.

"Night," she says to her door and slips inside.

Weeks ago, he would have followed eagerly. But she stopped crossing the hallway, and he never asked why.

* * *

His hand hovers above the wood paneling. Finally, he lets it drop and then rests his forehead against the cool surface.

"Hi. What are you doing?"

His head snaps up and he immediately regrets it. It's unfair that she's standing there, looking so sweet and so shy. Her hand twitches steadily, the keys chiming. All he wants to do is touch, just once more.

_I miss you. Do you need me like I need you?_

"Nothing," he chokes out, hurriedly backing away and stumbling into his own apartment.

* * *

He hears a male voice in the hallway and pauses by the door. He shoves his feet into shoes, grabs his keys, and tries to look casual. It wouldn't do to let her know.

The door swings open wide, in time to hear a peal of laughter, and he almost winces seeing her eyes shine. She pauses abruptly and the man looks over his shoulder at the interruption. "Hi," he greets amicably, extending a hand to him. They stare at his hand awkwardly before the man withdraws it, clearing his throat nervously.

His eyes shift up to the face, evaluating. Older, but in a way that's obviously to his advantage. Especially with timid, seemingly inexperienced females like the one fidgeting uncomfortably before them.

"I'll see you, Haley," he nods and backs away with a tentative wave.

He approaches slowly, crowding her against her door. He revels in the way she shrinks into herself, her fingers drumming against the wood surface, the flush of her cheeks. Because it isn't fair for her to be so unaffected when she turns him inside out.

"My bos—the principal," she stutters, locating the doorknob and twisting into freedom.

He wonders when and how the lust and jealousy twisted into love.

* * *

He walks down the hallway, slowly and cautiously. He slides his key into the lock and eases the door open. Suddenly, the hinges behind him creak open, and his entire body cringes.

"Hi," she calls out, purposefully.

"Hey," he mumbles over his shoulder. His gaze catches on the tank top and shorts, the glorious amount of tan skin exposed. Her lips twitch while her fingers rub along the hem of her top.

She leans against the doorway, legs crossing, and he freezes. "The other week, did you want to tell me something?"

The gym bag drops off his shoulder and he kicks it inside, breathing steadily. "No."

"You sure?"

He moves to face her and nearly shrinks at the look in her eyes. They aren't just suspicious and pushing for an explanation; they know.

"You were mistaken," he states icily, watching as she steps back. Her bare feet squirm uneasily on the cold floor.

"Must have been," she murmurs, shutting the door.

* * *

He surprises her, grabs her from behind and spins her around. No longer polite and cordial. He pins her palms flat against the wall. Her eyes meet his, steady and accessing, and her lips draw into a tight line. For a second, he thinks she'll kiss him. Boldly, like the first time.

Somehow, he finds his old swagger and the crude words tumble out. "Is there a reason you climbed into my bed and screwed me for months before leaving without a word? Or is that just some game you play?"

"_You_ played with _me_. For months. On purpose. You saw how you affected me and toyed with me because it was amusing."

"I'm sure you got plenty of amusement out of bedding an NBA player. Make him fal—infatuated with you."

Her eyes widen and he almost relents, thinking she'll pass out from sheer terror. Then her courage pushes out the words.

"It wasn't because you're rich and famous. I didn't even know that. It was because I dropped my keys and you picked them up. You were nice and polite, and it isn't what I expect from incredibly handsome men. And you kept being nice and polite and I thought it was something to build on, but nothing ever changed. Not even after we—"

"I'm not normally polite to shy, pretty girls who drop their keys."

His hands release their bruising hold to clasp her fingers lightly, and her stare drops to her feet.

"I'm not. Shy, that is. Not with others. Just you."


	2. Higher Education

_**Unrelated**_ so we're starting over here. Nathan's still the hotshot basketball player and Haley's still the quiet bookworm. This time, it takes ten years to break stereotypes.

Starts in late October, the NCAA Basketball Tournament's in mid-late March, time pretty much moves ambiguously after that. Oh, and the ending is kinda ridiculous fluff.

Three has a resolution, now for a plot...

**Higher Education**

Nathan paused in the doorway, steeling himself. He never gave it a second thought when he was in high school or college, but now it felt shameful. He couldn't believe how entitled these young athletes were and how some of them expected the rest of the universe to fall into line for them.

His hand hovered just above the wooden doorframe he'd planned on knocking when his eyes noticed a tight rear end covered by a black pencil skirt. An unbidden smirk made its way across his lips but he quickly wiped his expression blank when she straightened and turned around.

"Can I help you?"

The words were out of her mouth before she caught a full glance at the person taking up most of her office doorway. Her mouth fell open slightly when she looked up at the incredibly hot… student? Was he a student? She quickly straightened and eyed him again neutrally. At the very least he wasn't one of her students. Despite the possibility, Haley couldn't help but marvel over him. Since when do they make college boys who look like that?

Gawking for a moment, he clamped his jaw shut before realizing that he needed his mouth open to speak. "Uh, yes, I'm—" his throat went dry at the searching look she gave him and he cleared it purposefully, "I'm Nathan Scott."

Her eyebrows raised a smidge but nothing close to realization reached her pretty features. She didn't appear to recognize his name at all and he wanted to kick himself. "One of the assistant coaches for the men's basketball team," Nathan offered as clarification, resisting the shiver when her expression dropped from cautiously welcoming to nearly hostile.

"I see," she spoke in a clipped tone, placing the documents in her hand neatly on the desk before resting it on her hip. "How can I help you, Mr. Scott?"

"Nathan, please," he objected quickly, "Do you have a moment, Professor James? I wanted to speak to you about a student we have in common." Nathan quickly turned on the charm and gave her his best smirk.

Instead of swooning, she sighed heavily and settled into her office chair, gesturing for him to take the seat opposite her desk. "So this is about Sean?" Haley questioned, reaching to turn her computer on. Nathan froze slightly before shaking his head. "Then Chris?"

"N—no," he faltered. Coach could have warned him those two were in her class also.

"Ah, right, they're—what do you call it? Seatwarmers?" Haley mused speculatively, scowling at the amused grin he gave her.

"Benchwarmers," Nathan corrected with a slight smile, not noticing her glare. Realizing what had come out of his mouth, he closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't believe he'd actually called two non-scholarship students who gave their all regardless of play time benchwarmers. "That's no—well, that's the term you're looking for," he mumbled sheepishly, "But I'm not here to talk about them."

"So you obviously have no vested interest in how they're doing in my class," she steamrolled right on as if he hadn't spoken. "Well, don't worry they're doing perfectly fine. Despite Sean being a Computer Science major and Chris Business, they have decent mastery of the English language. Now Quentin on the hand, a Comm major I believe, seems to be having a real issue with it. That, and general politeness."

Nathan cringed at the last part. He'd heard how the kid speaks in the locker room, at practices, to his teammates and opponents but Nathan had hoped he was smart enough to save that attitude for basketball. Apparently not. "Yeah, Quentin," he muttered in response, sensing her less-than-impressed opinion of him.

"I've tried to help him in class, that is, when he's here. He only seems to come on game days, imagine that," she spoke sarcastically and Nathan nodded. Student-athletes needed to attend their classes to be eligible to play. Then again, they also needed a passing GPA, which Quentin did not have. "I've told him to come by during my office hours if he ever needs help. I've recommended him to the Writing Center whenever we have assignments. I've encouraged him to study with Chris and Sean. He just does not want to do the work. I doubt I'm the only professor having an issue with his academic performance."

"No, you're not the only professor I need to speak to," Nathan grumbled out, sinking lower into the seat. Damn, he felt like a little kid being scolded. In any case, he couldn't deny that her bossy, irritated tone of voice was more than a little hot. "What can we do to get him back on track?"

"He can start coming to class on more than just game days, for starters. Doing his readings would be helpful. If you can get him to work with a tutor, that'd be wonderful. There's a program in the Student Center that can match him up with someone. We have an essay coming up in two weeks. I'd like to see a draft a few days beforehand so I could talk it through with him. Are these things you'll be responsible for helping him do?" she questioned suspiciously. Watching a student's grades didn't seem like the job of an assistant coach.

"Partly," he answered quickly. "The athletic department has academic advisors for student-athletes but Q doesn't seem to—"

"Respond? Listen? Pay attention? Follow directions? Care?" Haley listed off monotonously. At Nathan's hesitant expression, she sighed quickly, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so discouraging but Quentin has to be the most difficult student I've come across. In spite of how I sound, I really do want him to improve, or at least be eligible to play basketball since that's what he cares about. He just has so many attitude issues I hardly know where to begin."

Nathan nodded carefully, "I understand what you're saying. Listen, he's getting a new tutor and the coaches are really on his case. If his grades don't improve, he's not playing. Period. Trust me, with that kind of motivation, he'll have to try harder."

In truth, he was still stuck on her previous statement. With the right clothes, she wouldn't look a day older than the students on campus. How many difficult students could she have possibly had?

"Well, thank you for that, Nathan. I'm glad that someone is looking out for Quentin's grades even if it is for reasons other than… you know," she waved her hand dismissively when he nodded in agreement.

"Ha—Professor James," he faltered, realizing while that he had given permission, she hadn't said a word about her first name. "Would you like to go out sometime?"

Her head shot up in a panic and her dark brown eyes widened almost comically. Nathan furrowed his brow at her reaction. The woman was gorgeous; surely men had asked her out given the slightest opening.

"That's very… nice of you to ask, Nathan, but I doubt we have anything in common other than a few students," she deflected skillfully, glancing around her office for an appropriate distraction. Almost on cue, a figure appeared in the doorway and she stifled the relieved sigh. "Hi there, Will, anything I can help you with?"

The young man did his best to insist that he didn't want to intrude but Haley wouldn't take "no" for an answer. She hustled Nathan out the door, ignoring his slight scowl, and thanked him once more for coming by. Despite his lingering presence in the hallway, she smiled welcomingly at her student and immersed herself in helping him.

Nathan paused in the hall, noting the office hours she'd neatly written on the business card in her door plaque. He took one last look through her open door before sauntering in the direction of the math building.

* * *

Leaning against the row of lockers, Nathan calmly assessed the ball player currently shooting his mouth off. Chris and Sean joined in half-heartedly with agreeing smiles but mainly stayed out of the conversation. Given his running, borderline sexual harassment, diatribe about Professor James' ass, Nathan could guess Quentin had been to class today.

"Q!" he barked, also catching the attention of the head coach who gave him the 'go ahead' nod. "My office now."

When Quentin entered, he immediately ducked his head, sensing the coach's anger with him. "Do you know what I spent my day doing?" Nathan rhetorically asked, pleased when the hotshot kept his mouth shut and mutely nodded "no." "What would you guess I normally do on game days, Q?"

"I don't know," he mumbled cautiously, "Watch tape?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice, huh? I'm a basketball coach so I should be able to spend my time doing things related to basketball. I visited each one of your professors today, Quentin," Nathan practically snarled out, watching as his player flinched. "We both know none of my visits went well." Quentin nodded, eyes unmoving from his shoelaces.

"This is the last game you're playing for two weeks," Nathan informed him, keeping his expression neutral when Quentin nearly had a heart attack. "You'll concentrate on your studies for that time. You have tests and assignments due in three of your four classes and your professors are expecting a drastic improvement. If you're successful, they're willing to revise your midterm grades to include your new ones. That should be enough to keep you eligible for the rest of the semester, and with the hard work you'll continue to do, it'll stay that way. Do you understand that this is a second chance, Quentin? One every athletic program at this university and others will be hearing about for years?"

With a barely discernable nod, Quentin went pale under his dark coloring and moved to leave. "I'm not done. I'll be monitoring your progress personally. Q, I didn't like school when I had to do it but I got through it. I don't appreciate having professors lecture me about spoiled, over-privileged athletes, who do nothing and expect everything in the classroom. You want the NBA? Fine, play hard. You don't care about school? Fine, no one's asking you to become a rocket scientist. But you do need to pass to get the first one."

"Tonight, you'll play. You will lead your teammates tonight and for the next two weeks, regardless of your playing time. You don't take it out on them because you were too lazy and too entitled to handle your school work. Tomorrow, you'll meet with your new tutors and you will go to every single one of your classes whether or not it's a game day."

"You will also stop copping attitude to your professors. It is not their fault you aren't meeting the requirements of their classes, not when you don't even go or try. Got me, Q?" Nathan spoke softly now, hating that Quentin had become more and more defeated with every word out of his mouth. "There's not a single person who wants you to fail, Quentin, but no one's going to pass you along if you don't deserve it."

"Alright, Coach, I got it," Quentin mumbled tiredly. "Can I go now?"

"Yeah," Nathan rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. He'd like to pretend there was nothing important in the world other than basketball but Quentin definitely didn't need that attitude in life. "Oh, if you don't stop talking about your female professors like that, Q, I'll call your mother."

Quentin paused in the doorway, vaguely terrified. He glanced back at his coach, cringing when he realized the older man was serious. "Damn, Coach, that's harsh, bringing my mama into it." Nathan was unmoved, shrugging his shoulders lightly, when Quentin's expression suddenly lit up, a smile splitting his face.

"You're sweet on Professor James, aren't you?" he goaded almost expertly. "Don't worry, Coach, I won't tell the guys. Good luck with that though. She seems pretty… untouchable."

Nathan rolled his eyes, knowing his player meant a number of other derogatory words. Quentin just laughed and walked back into the locker room, his mouth running before he even got within hearing distance of his other teammates. Shaking his head, Nathan grabbed his playbook, knowing Quentin would bounce back if only to save face.

* * *

The team gathered in a huddle, responding loudly to their coach's pep talk. With the go ahead from security, the players charged out of the tunnel and onto the darkened court to the roars of the deafening crowd.

Lagging behind slightly, he spotted a tight pair of jeans and a fitted leather jacket lingering in the hall. Smirking to himself, Nathan tapped her on the shoulder, straightening his tie. "Professor James?" he guessed correctly, smirk widening when she spun around in surprise. There was no way he could possibly mistake that ass. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, uh," she sputtered briefly, glancing around to find the area deserted. "The class got it out of me that I've never been to a game before. Sean was kind enough to drop off a ticket this afternoon after we spoke."

"I see," Nathan smiled, never before more grateful for the undersized benc—guard. "Your seat's not going to be down here, Professor."

"Haley," she corrected lightly, flushing when she realized she hadn't done so before. "I know that. I just thought I would try to wish the boys good luck before… kickoff," Haley ignored his hearty chuckle, "but I can see I'm too late."

"It's tipoff," Nathan interjected casually. "I'll let them know you said so."

Haley smiled in gratitude before noticing his proximity. She was pressed flush against the wall to avoid actual physical contact given how close he was leaning. In spite of the silence, she felt a blush spread across her cheeks, something that made him smirk. How exactly had she said "no" earlier?

The buzzer sounded and he rocked back onto his heels with a clear look of disappointment. "Let's get you to your seat," Nathan offered with a charming smile. In an uncharacteristic move, he held out his arm, which she took hesitantly. He led her to a security guard who agreed to escort her to her seat and skillfully extracted a promise that she'd stick around after the game.

Haley tried her best to keep her attention on the court but found her eyes continually drawn to the handsome suited man on the sidelines. He was the opposite of the head coach, who raged up and down the bench at his players and referees alike. Nathan sat quietly except to kneel next to each player as they came in or left the bench. They spoke briefly, always with his hand on the boy's shoulder, and even Quentin solemnly listened to his words.

In the final minutes of the game, the coach sent in the reserves, including Chris and Sean. If she had to guess, it was a rare occasion that they were allowed to play, especially judging from the excited cheers of the crowd. The entire bench jumped up and down when Chris scored a three and Haley smiled at Nathan's arms stretched upwards in victory. It was the most emotion she'd seen out of him all night. On the other hand, Quentin was the loudest of his teammates. Normally, Haley would roll her eyes at his bragging, given that she had all game, but she couldn't help but find it endearing that his pride extended to his teammates and not just his own performance.

The game wound down finally and the ball was launched high into the rafters of the stadium. A complete blowout. Hesitantly, she found the guard that had helped her to her seat. He remembered Nathan's instructions and led her to the entrance of the team's locker room, where she could easily hear their excited chatter through the solid door.

She was fiddling with the charm of her necklace when she heard a rough voice bark "Eyes up front!" To her surprise, the gruff tone came from Nathan, who stood with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed at Quentin. In her stupor, the entire team had passed by and only Quentin had lingered long enough to draw the attention of his coach.

"Good game boys!" she called belatedly, smiling when Sean and Chris turned to wave. "Quentin, I'll see you in class," Haley instructed with a tight smile, ignoring the boy's rolled eyes.

"Yes, you will," Nathan answered for him, gesturing for him to follow his teammates. "And he's meeting with his new tutor tomorrow morning to start working on that essay," he reminded sternly, grimacing when Quentin's shoulders slumped and his feet dragged. The kid had posted career high stats, no doubt to sustain himself for the next two weeks, and Nathan hated that he had to ruin that feeling. But he had brought it on himself.

Clearing those thoughts from his head, he turned back to the stunning woman who was tugging nervously on the sleeves of her jacket. "Do you need to go with them?"

"Oh, no, they're good," he smirked, leaning into her once again. Haley recognized the move and shifted slightly, so she leaned against the concrete wall with her shoulder and not her back. It limited his proximity but kept him close enough to keep the smirk. "Do you want to grab a drink?"

Haley balked at his question, quickly turning her head away from the uproarious members of the marching band. Nathan would have been offended if he hadn't thought her shyness adorable. When the last of the robust tuba players passed, she turned back to face him, an embarrassed smile on her lips. "Didn't I already shoot you down once today?"

He immediately let out a nervous-sounding chuckle, not expecting her to be so blunt. "Uh, yes. Think of it as your second chance," Nathan recovered, smiling charmingly, "I don't give out many."

Her eyebrows shot up and she bit her lip to contain her laughter, "That is _such_ a line. In fact, it's one of the worst I've heard."

"Ouch," Nathan grimaced teasingly. Just by the way her eyes lit up he knew she was in no way serious. "I really doubt that. Why don't we grab a beer and I'll try out a few more on you? I've got a couple that would probably get you to throw a drink in my face."

"Oh, can I?" she questioned, clasping her hands together in excitement. Her high-heeled boots clicked down the hall and his eyes wandered her form as he followed. "Because that might actually be worth it."

Nathan shook his head as he led her to his car, wondering what the hell happened to his game. Why was he offering a woman rights to practically physically abuse him to get a date? "Sure, as long as it's not wet."

Her pout made him want to kiss her senseless, much like most everything she'd done since they'd met. "You're no fun."

"Want to bet?" he smirked easily, closing the car door on her protests.

* * *

"So what's your story, Nathan Scott, college basketball player tamer extraordinaire?"

He noticed that as the night wore on her words got longer, rhymier, and flirtier—even though the drinks had stopped flowing nearly an hour ago. "I went to the university. Got drafted after graduation—yes, I graduated," he grumbled immediately to her mocking gasp, grinning when her hand smacked his arm, then rested there. "Played for the Bobcats for a few years," Nathan ignored her impressed expression for the moment, "Got injured. Sulked. My old high school coach pulled my head out of my ass and I started helping him out with the team. Bill offered me the assistant coach job at the end of last school year."

"That would make you… 28-ish?" Haley astutely guessed, chin resting on her closed fist atop the wooden bar.

"Ding ding ding," he answered softly. Why was it that everything she did seemed to encourage him to take her on top of the bar? The (what he hoped was) lust spilling from her dark eyes was not helping matters. Anxiously, he took a long drink from the now-warm beer, ever mindful that he'd need to drive her back to the stadium and her car.

Her smile was wide and excited. "Me too! Oops, was I not supposed to tell you that?" she giggled slightly, eyes resting on the half-full wine glass, only her second, and realizing that drunkenness was out as an excuse for her behavior.

"I wouldn't guess you were a day older than 18," Nathan shrugged in truth. "A little wiser," his hand brushed lightly across her cheek, "but put you in a college t shirt and I'd feel a lot like a pedophile right now. Not to mention the bartender carded you."

"Charmer," she accused, shaking her head. As a change of topic, Haley glanced fondly around the bar, "I went here too, you know? Had my first of-age drink here actually. Weirdly enough, I don't remember you."

"Really?" his smile grew curious. "How come I never noticed _you_?" He was no longer the total dipshit who thought the world revolved around basketball players and their hangers-on. A beautiful and interesting girl like her should never go unnoticed.

Haley barked out a laugh, covering her mouth instantly. "Because I was a dork," she admitted sheepishly. "You were good enough to play in the NBA and I haven't once recognized your name. That should tell you how big the rock I was hiding under was."

"Say some stupidly long word," Nathan commanded, overlooking her offended glare.

"," she rattled off, shooting him a triumphant smile.

Nathan gasped dramatically, purposefully leaning in closer to her face. "I do remember you. God, you were blonde back then," he chuckled hard at her disbelieving stare. "We were in the same freshman English with Timmons or someone. There were like 100 people in the class but you were this totally hot blonde I noticed on the first day. I only went to that class because—well, Coa—Bill would have killed me if I didn't—but you, you definitely made it worth going."

"What?" he asked cautiously when she burst out laughing. It was a great sound but he couldn't help feeling like he missed the joke. Given her behavior, Nathan expected sweet blushes and shy smiles, not outright laughter.

"That class was hell. I almost didn't pursue an English major because of that class. I hated every minute of it," she hesitated, the already red hot blush growing deeper, "but I remember you now. Never knew your name or anything but you were way more interesting than any old British novel."

Haley was half-convinced the blush would be permanent. Who knew the hot guy from freshman English was a super-talented basketball player? Oh right, probably everyone on campus except for her. She bit her lip to keep from all but attacking his, even if they were forming the world's most annoyingly victorious smirk right now.

"How come you never talked to me?" she questioned suspiciously, if only to throw off that too pleased expression.

"Me?" Nathan pointed a finger to his chest incredulously.

"Yes, you," Haley sighed. "You were apparently this hotshot basketball player. I bet you flexed those muscles and flashed that smirk and girls just dropped at your feet. If you thought I was _so_ hot, how come you never made a move?"

Nathan's smile grew wide at her banter. "Maybe I was shy. Maybe I was terrified of the girl who was not only smoking but had a brain to boot. I'm pretty sure every other girl hated you on the basis of jealousy. And you might have hated our professor but he was definitely… impressed."

"You asked me out after a ten minute conversation during which I lectured you about your wayward, too-big-for-his-britches basketball player. Hot. Shot," she enunciated, a finger lightly poking his hard, defined chest. She pulled her hand away quickly in case she couldn't overcome the urge to grab his loosened tie and drag him out to his backseat. "By the way, gross!" Haley shuddered, trying to wipe her mind of his insinuations.

He shook his head in amusement before sobering and remembering her place of employment, "Oh, he's not stil—"

Haley waved him off with her hand, fighting the chuckles. "No, thankfully, he was only a visiting professor and left before we even graduated." She startled when Nathan leaned forward suddenly and lightly squeezed her hand resting on top of her knee, a tentative smile on his face.

"I would have if I had the chance, Haley. And by had the chance, I mean been wasted enough at a party to risk the outright rejection. You were never at any parties so I never had the balls to do it. I would have either completely embarrassed myself or acted like such a dumbass you'd assume I was asking you to tutor me or something," he chuckled lightly. "You know what maybe I should have asked you to tutor me."

She scoffed in his face, "I have a feeling you were a worst student than Quentin."

Nathan couldn't help the smile, even if he was slightly offended. "Hey, I passed," he defended, lightly scowling at her. "That's a low blow, Hales." Before he could regret it, she beamed at the nickname and he sincerely wished they weren't in a bar right now, especially one frequented by the school's of-age crowd.

"Sorry," Haley murmured, obviously not very apologetic. Served him right after all that talk about her college days. She was a nerd and a half and sure that if anyone hated her, it was for being a know-it-all wet blanket, not jealousy. Hah!

Nathan felt the lull in the conversation and frowned. He thought the night had been going ridiculously well. She was obviously won over by the way he'd done his job, and lately there was nothing he appreciated more than someone who realized the intricacies of coaching. Haley was right in that there was little they'd had in common but somehow they'd found plenty to talk about. He'd been more at ease, yet somehow anxious, with her than anyone before and was confident enough to believe the same went for her.

Finding out she was essentially his "one who got away" had only made their connection all the sweeter. After the semester ended, he'd occasionally see her around campus, normally when he bothered dragging himself to the library, and always with her nose in a book. He'd thought about asking around about her but Nathan Scott didn't ask about girls—especially ones that seemed to live in the library and never made it out to parties.

This Nathan Scott was more than happy to ask about a woman like Haley James, particularly if it meant being somewhere quiet and alone.

"So," Haley mumbled uncomfortably, fidgeting with the napkin under her glass.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Nathan blurted. She looked disappointed and unsure for a moment before he held out his hand. He slid off the barstool and stood his ground despite the incredibly close proximity.

She avoided his hand but nodded her agreement, excusing herself to the bathroom. When Haley returned, they did the obligatory dance over the check that Nathan won with a charming smirk. Walking back to his car, he resisted the desire to wrap an arm around her waist and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

"You can drop me at my car, right?" Haley blurted quickly before they could reach that awkward point of conversation. She turned to look up at him, hand reaching to tuck back her loose hair, and almost jolted in surprise at how plainly disappointed he looked.

Nathan cleared his throat uncomfortably. He knew she could read him like an open book and wanted to scream "Not fair!" How many times had he done this routine? How many times had women willingly followed him to his hotel? How many times had he been anything more than annoyed when they played hard to get? "Uh, sure," he stumbled out, realizing she was still waiting for an answer.

"See the thing is," Haley began, automatically reprimanding herself. She did not need an excuse to not go home with a man after knowing him for only a few hours. "My sister's coming into town early tomorrow."

Exhaling quickly in relief, he next felt the immediate embarrassment of showing his relief. "Oh."

Haley whirled right into his path, a curious yet offended expression on her face. "Oh. That's all?"

Nathan shrugged lightly, hands clenching in his pockets. "Yeah, oh. Legitimate reason, right? I mean, if you said your fiancé or your boyfriend, you probably would have gotten more out of me. As it stands, let me know when she leaves." He was comforted by her startled and tentative expression. The previous reaction hinted she was just as interested as he was and this one proved she was just as, if not more, unsure.

"Will do," Haley answered quietly, falling into step beside him again.

Smiling, Nathan opened the car door for her. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

Haley stared blankly at the reading she'd assigned for tomorrow. She pushed her fingers to her temples and massaged firmly, finding it did little to relieve the mounting pressure.

"Need a massage?"

She startled at the deep, gravelly, and downright sexy voice from the man leaning in her office doorway. A blush and a smile warred for dominance but Haley quickly went into panic mode at the movement out of the corner of her eye. She watched Nathan's smirk fall at her blatantly frightened expression but was powerless to do anything about it.

"And who might this be?" her sister questioned curiously, standing from her seat on the couch behind the open door.

Haley cringed, annoyed that her sister had actually bothered to speak. "Don—" She was cut off when Quinn sidestepped the door and entered full sight of Nathan.

Though he was momentarily startled by the sudden appearance of the brunette bearing a strong resemblance to Haley, he stuck his hand out, introducing himself, "Nathan Scott. I'm guessing you're Haley's sister?"

"Quinn. One of three," she confirmed with a light laugh, watching as his eyebrows lifted. "You didn't know that? How well do you know Hales?"

Feeling uncomfortable, he backed slightly into the hall, "We just me—"

"I figured you two might know each other from when you both went to school here."

The insinuation was clear and Nathan wanted to roll his eyes in response. As if he didn't feel bad enough knowing a girl like Haley had been under his nose for four years and he hadn't done a thing about it. "No, we have a student in common," he bit out tersely, "Haley, according to Quentin's tutor, he should have his essay ready to show you tomorrow. Please let me know if he doesn't." Nathan fought for a smile at Haley's clearly hostile expression and nodded to Quinn before escaping out the door.

"Seriously?" Haley exclaimed exasperated at her older sister. She gave her a light shove onto the couch before chasing the long-legged man down the hall.

"Nathan!" she hissed quietly, knowing others had offices and open doors on the floor. He stopped just before the stairwell but she pushed him into it, letting the door swing closed behind them. "Sorry about that. She's kind of insane."

He shrugged before expelling a long breath. "No, it's fine. It's just—you said she was only staying for the weekend but I didn't hear from you after that. I thought I'd stop by," Nathan muttered. Damn, this was embarrassing, but hopefully worth it.

"Sorry… again. Taylor, one of my _other_ sisters, got evicted or kicked out of her apartment, I'm not entirely sure. Anyway, Quinn's staying till Friday when Taylor should be set up in her new place. She's on this weird cross country trip to visit all of our siblings," Haley explained for his benefit.

In truth, she knew Quinn was merely avoiding her husband, who she'd recently separated from. Between the dreams of Nathan and the failed attempts to pinpoint the exact reasons Quinn wanted to divorce David, she was utterly exhausted. Then there was the trying to figure out where this thing with Nathan was actually going. Asking her friends and sisters for advice was akin to asking to be tortured. And with Quinn's marriage problems, Taylor's and Vivian's commitment issues, Peyton's back-and-forth with Lucas, and Brooke's conviction that every guy she met was "the one," she doubted they'd be of any use anyway.

Nathan nodded in understanding. He'd never actually been worried that a woman had blown him off before, but he followed her into a building he'd hated since he was 18. "Oh, well, okay."

She was obviously unimpressed by his answer. Nathan quickly ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He didn't know where this was going. He wasn't even sure he liked the feeling of having his skin tingle and his stomach flip-flop, among other things. He did know he really wanted her to stop making those sad faces—especially as a direct result of things he said.

"Then do you want to go to dinner Saturday?" Nathan filled the silence hastily. He felt his own sad face forming at her noticeable reluctance. "And when you agree, I'd like to get that in writing—before one of your other siblings randomly decides to stay with you."

"When?" Haley began to smile, arching an eyebrow.

Nathan smirked back. Now this he could handle. "You know you're going to say "yes", Professor."

"Excuse me."

Recognizing the voice, they both cringed guiltily before glancing up the stairwell, finding only part of Quentin's torso fitting in the cropped view between the railings. Nathan glared openly at his player as his heavy footsteps sounded on the bottom landing of the staircase. He knew the tall student was doing his best to contain the "gotcha" smile and grumbled menacingly at being interrupted.

"Quentin," Nathan forced out, glimpsing down at Haley who seemed twenty different types of embarrassed. "How can we help you?"

"I'm here to see Professor James," he announced cockily, figuring he had some type of blackmail on his coach. "I finished my essay early. I was wondering if you could look over it if you had some time, Professor?"

Haley smiled brightly, "Of course, Quentin, I'd be happy to. I'm really glad you've taken the initiative like this. Could you just wait outside my office please? I need to finish speaking to your coach."

"Sure thing," he mumbled pleasantly, awkwardly shuffling his large frame between the two adults.

Haley belatedly remembered that Quinn was still inside her office but then mentally shrugged it off. With her attitude as of late, she could bear to deal with a "young adult" and his borderline inappropriate innuendos.

"Saturday?" Nathan questioned again, realizing she wasn't going to be delayed much longer.

Haley hesitated for the briefest of seconds before nodding in agreement, "Okay."

"I'm serious about that in writing thing, Haley," he smirked. "I at least need proof that your sister's left town by then."

She laughed briefly, "Trust me, if Quinn hasn't left by then, I'm kicking her out myself. There's only so much of your older siblings you can take before reverting back to junior high hair-pulling."

Nathan smiled indulgently. He didn't have much, or any, experience with siblings but the thought of bookish Haley James resorting to hair-pulling was more than amusing…and kind of hot. He stopped the smirk before she could see it and make yet another quick witted remark. "You'll also let me know if you're in jail for assault or something?"

"You're hilarious, Nathan," Haley muttered disparagingly.

His smirk was quick and instinctive, "I know."

Haley let out a sharp laugh that she inwardly winced at and he raised a curious eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt people are constantly complimenting your comedic skills."

He scowled slightly at her quick reply before brightening, "You know I didn't notice you had a couch in your office."

"What's that supposed to mean?" her voice had an edge to it that he guessed was normally reserved for her students. Despite the tone, he could see the small lift to the corner of her mouth. Nathan didn't doubt for a second she was experiencing the same pleasant mental image he was.

"Just observing."

He left her in the stairwell, rolling her eyes at his back.

* * *

"This is great, Quentin. Your analysis just needs to tighten up in those spots but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you're actually enjoying this," Haley teased, amused when he immediately began denying it. "Seriously, Quentin, it's good work. If you had done this from the beginning, your grades would not be an issue."

Quentin smirked slightly before nodding seriously. He'd been reinstated to the team last week, but the fear of Coach Scott and his mother had him keeping up with his studies and sucking up to his professors. "Thanks, Professor."

Haley nodded, knowing from Nathan he responded best to a mixture of praise and constructive criticism. "How's it feel being back on the team?"

"Great," the first smile of the last twenty minutes broke out on his face. "I mean, even when I wasn't playing I still had to practice and Coach Scott would let me come on the road trips if I'd done my school work, but now..." He trailed off with a slight shrug, unable to find the words.

"Everyone can see all your hard work again and appreciate it," Haley filled in, extending his paper across the desk to him. "It's like that here, too, Q. We like to see you work hard and do well. If you're struggling, just tell us and we'll try to help. We're not that different from your coaches."

"Yeah, I get that more now," Quentin agreed easily, standing and shoving the paper into his backpack. "I've got to head to practice. Thanks again for the help."

Haley nodded and smiled in acknowledgment, turning to her computer as he walked out. "Oh," Quentin paused in the doorway with a cocky smirk, "I'll tell Coach Scott you said hi."

He took off before she could get a word out in response. Haley merely buried her face in her hands and prayed he wouldn't actually follow through.

* * *

When she finished her office hours, the quick walk to the nearest faculty parking lot ended with Nathan leaning against her car. He broke into a light jog to reach her and pulled the laptop case from her hand.

"Hi," he murmured, the fingers of his free hand brushing lightly against hers before drawing away. The smirk came readily at her immediate blush.

"Coach Scott," Haley greeted formally, her blush deepening at his widening smirk. That obviously did not have the intended effect. "Is there something you needed?"

"Just returning the greeting Q passed along," Nathan replied quickly, knowing full well the player had made it up. They had reached her car and before she could escape, Nathan gently but efficiently removed the keys from her hand. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Y-yes?" came the faltered response—especially when he took the opportunity to back her against the car door.

"We have a road trip next weekend." He tried to keep the elated smile off his face when she frowned heavily, the same frown he'd experienced after remembering said road trip. "I was hoping you could make some arrangements and come with. We play Georgetown in D.C. One of your brothers lives there, right?"

Haley glanced up at him hesitantly. That couldn't have been an offer to meet her older brother. "Right. What exactly are you suggesting, Nathan? That I drop all my plans for the weekend to come see you? Under the guise of visiting a very loving and protective older brother?"

The scowl was almost immediate. So he hadn't thought that part out entirely. "Your plans included grading papers and going out with me. You can do one in DC and you can do the other _only_ in D.C. And you can deal with your brother. After all, you're the smart one in this relationship." He was surprised to hear the word flow easily out of his mouth. Not a stutter or stammer in sight. Her look of flat surprise and confusion was a little trickier.

She immediately held up a finger, digging into her purse and retrieving her cell phone. Haley pressed a few buttons, though he could tell it wasn't remotely close to making a phone call, and held the device to her ear.

"Hey Elliott, it's Haley. Hey, I'm going to be in DC this weekend but instead of staying in your spare room that's free and ignoring that I haven't seen you since last Christmas, I'll be at a hotel. You're going to have to keep me company every once in a while though because the guy that I've been seeing, and really the only reason I'm even coming to the city, has a basketball game to coach. Oh no, only Quinn knows about him but she's way too caught up in avoiding David to say anything to the rest of the family."

"What's he like? Oh don't even worry about that. He used to play for the NBA so I'm totally just after his money and, don't be grossed out just 'cause I'm your little sister, his body. Can you say fine?"

"You know," Nathan smirked, grabbing for her cell phone. "I definitely don't mind that last part." He leaned into her, lips hovering just above hers, before realization dawned on him and he backed away quickly.

Haley sighed and glanced around the parking lot apprehensively. This stupid dance was getting old. Her constantly worrying about not moving fast enough because, well, he was Nathan Scott and him equally worried about not moving slow enough because, well, she was Haley James.

She grabbed the collar of his school logo emblazoned polo before popping up on her tiptoes to plant a firm kiss on his surprised lips. "There," Haley smirked successfully at his stunned expression, "Happy?"

Nathan nodded dumbly and then cleared his throat conspicuously. "So, D.C.?"

"I'll have to make some arrangements. And I'll probably have to drive." She made a face at the thought of a seven hour road trip, particularly one through highway patrol-happy Virginia. "You better have something good planned, Scott."

* * *

Her eyes blinked wearily at the sunlight pouring through the semi-sheer curtain. How she'd slept through that bright light for so long Haley really had no idea but it was ridiculously annoying now. Reaching for her alarm clock to check the time, her hand met with nothing and her head popped up.

Not her covers. Unfamiliar wallpaper. Generic paintings of country landscapes. A most thoroughly trashed hotel room. And a half-naked, freshly showered Greek god smirking like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

"Hello," Nathan rumbled out, a hand loosely adjusting the white towel wrapped around his midsection.

Haley's mind went deliciously blank at the action and it took her a moment to meet his eyes again. "Oh, hi," she managed to squeak out, shaking her head at herself. The smirk had yet to leave his face and she glanced down, realizing those unfamiliar covers were doing little to conceal her naked self.

He sauntered closer, the smirk fading as he took in her hurried movements to arrange the sheets appropriately. "Haley?"

Immediately she stopped her fidgeting and looked up into his seemingly nervous expression. After the night they'd had, she couldn't believe the man had any kind of confidence issues. "Sorry, I just… I could have sworn we fell asleep on the floor."

"We did," his smirk instantly reappearing, "My phone alarm went off so I moved you onto the bed when I woke up. I need to go catch the bus with the team." In spite of his words, Nathan lost the towel and settled his slightly damp body next to hers on the bed. "I didn't want to wake you up. You looked a little worn out."

The blush came against her will and she searched futilely for something to hide her face in, more than willing to use the bare chest Nathan offered to her. "This room is a disaster," she muttered against his skin.

"Don't act like you didn't have your part in that," he chuckled, a hand gently sorting through her tangled hair. "Your phone's been ringing. I've got a vague feeling it's your brother."

"Probably," Haley agreed, her body curling closer to his. "So are you leaving now? I was going to grab breakfast," she quickly leaned over him to check the alarm clock and he groaned quietly in her ear, "I mean, brunch with Elliott. If you wanted to come." The last part was added hesitantly, and she was grateful that he didn't immediately jump away as if the sheets were on fire.

"Can't. Bill only gave me the rest of the night off. Have to help wake up those brats or we'll never leave on time." After a quick roam of his wandering hands, Nathan pulled away and grabbed the overnight bag he'd brought. Mindful of Haley's appreciative stare, he dragged his clothes on before collecting last night's from some creative locations. "You'll drive safe?"

"Course," she murmured against his lips and drew back carefully.

Nathan briefly touched his lips to her forehead before sighing, "Look, don't freak about this. Have fun with your brother. Drive safe. I'll see you at home."

* * *

The petite woman sitting against his door scrambled to her feet. Immediately, he drew her slight form into a tight hug. "Damn, that sucked," he murmured low into her ear.

"I'm so sorry," Haley offered feebly. She didn't know much about basketball, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that game had not gone well. At all. Actually, it went pretty well for one team, just not the one her boyfriend coached.

"They fell apart. We couldn't even figure out where it all started going wrong. Or what went wrong the most," Nathan sighed heavily and finally released her to unlock his apartment door. "Were you out here long?"

Haley shook her head in denial," No, after you called, I figured you'd be too tired to drive over… and in the rain, so I just came over myself. Maybe ten minutes, at most." She took his overnight bag from him before dropping it on the floor and leading him to the couch.

"I'm glad you did. There's no one else I'd rather be with tonight," Nathan answered honestly. He didn't bother protesting when she made him lie down, head in her lap, and slowly massaged his scalp. "Hales, what do I say to them? It was brutal and that's not on them. That's on us. We didn't prepare them enough."

She hemmed and hawed above him for a moment before shrugging, "How far did you guys make it in the Tournament?"

"Elite Eight my junior year, Sweet Sixteen my senior," Nathan sighed, knowing where she was going. "None of those losses were this bad though. The first one… we just got outplayed and the second was damn close actually. Co—Bill didn't have to say much. We knew what we had done wrong."

"Look, the team's young right?" Haley asked, knowingly. Quentin, their star player, was only a sophomore. The rest of the lineup was the same or younger with only one starting senior and two backup juniors. "They _can_ recover from this, Nathan, but you have to help them. They may not be mature or experienced enough to know where their mistakes were and where your mistakes were. You have to help them distinguish."

"Make sure they know you're in it together. That you're going to work on what you need to improve, and they should go and do the same. And when next season starts, you all start over again. As long as people are trying to fix their problems, there's no need to look at the past, just what you both can do to make the next game better."

"So that's it, teach? Just hey guys, hope we do better next time," Nathan scoffed.

"Yes," she frowned down at him, "But not hope. We will do better because here's what I did wrong and here's what you did wrong and this is how we're going to fix it." Haley forcefully pushed her fingers into the corners of his lips, lifting them into a smile. "No offense, baby, but I did some reading online and no one thought you were going to win. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Nathan bit lightly at one of her fingers before sighing yet again. "Yeah, okay, I know winning was kind of a long shot. I just didn't think I'd watch my players be completely humiliated and have to sit there and do nothing about it. This game was a really big deal, and for them to lose like they did…"

"Maybe that was it. Maybe they psyched themselves out. You know, they saw themselves losing the game before it even started, and that's why it felt like everything was always going wrong. They couldn't get into rhythm in the first place," Haley mused and Nathan nodded in agreement. "It was a really big game and a really good team."

"Not really," Nathan blurted out, sitting up suddenly. "We'd beaten at least three other teams who were as good if not a little better. We've lost to teams that were worse than them. If we'd played them in the regular season, this would have been just another loss, if we even lost. Which kind of makes it suck more."

He dropped back onto her lap and Haley bit back a chuckle at his defeated attitude. "You'll find the right thing to say. Even if it's not exactly the right thing, they'll know what you mean. I've seen them listen to you. And if it really comes down to it, just tell them the truth."

"That it sucks? Nothing I say can take back what happened? If we don't want it to happen again, we'll just have to work harder?" Nathan rolled his eyes bitterly, playing with her fingers.

She nodded solemnly. "If that's the truth, nothing's going to hide it. Not even if you sugarcoat it for them."

"I love you," he stated, dragging his lips over her knuckles.

Her gaze was glassy and wide-eyed. "Hmm?" she managed to question.

"Didn't want to sugarcoat it." The corners of his lips tugged upwards, "That's the truth, right? That I never saw you coming? That six months ago I had no idea where this was going but I wouldn't change a damn thing? That this is the worst that I have ever felt but there's no one else I'd rather have with me because I love you?"

She kept up the glassy and wide-eyed look till he smiled ruefully. "I'm good at the flirting and charming bit, but I'm pretty shit at the sharing my emotions part. You're really good at listening and giving advice but kind of hesitant about the whole putting yourself out there thing. So I'll go work on mine, and you go work on yours, and maybe in the fut—"

"I love you, too."

* * *

"Holy shit," Nathan stuttered, not caring in the slightest that his jaw was hanging open. As if she weren't already a sight for his sore eyes, having accompanied Bill on two weeks of scouting at summer training camps, now she was a six years and counting flashback.

Nevertheless, Haley reached a self-conscious hand to the messy waves. "You like it? I wasn't sure. I haven't been blonde in a while, thought it'd be a nice change now that the school year's over."

He remained speechless but let his eyes roam over her petite body to get the full effect. Dressed for lounging in a pair of his boxers and one of his old school basketball shirts, she was his college fantasy girl come to life. Woman hadn't aged a day.

"Plus, Taylor and I have this deal. The first time she dyed her hair blonde, people were always getting us mixed up. After that, we promised to never be the same hair color. It was just a joke, but when I went up to visit her, she suggested I switch back to blonde because she was going dark anyway. I didn't do it because my big sister said to, but it seemed like a fun, spur of the moment thing," Haley drifted off in her ramble, noticing his lack of reaction. "Nathan, are you going to say anything?"

"You're my perfect woman," he mumbled, eyes continually moving up and down her form. "Not that you weren't before, but this is one hell of a present, even if I had absolutely nothing to do with the decision when you made it. You know, I used to—"

Catching onto his stream of thought, Haley quickly grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. "Seriously, my neighbors can probably hear you."

Nathan just scoffed and dropped his duffel bag to the floor. "Well, can you blame me? Look at you. Then, now, my dick can't tell the difference."

Blushing furiously, Haley bit out, "Charming, Nathan." She stomped furiously into her bedroom and he was mesmerized by the sway of her blonde locks.

"Oh, come on! I meant that in a good way. You know I love every inch of who you are, too. Why don't we go to the university library and I'll make it up to you? I still have one of my college jerseys." As much as he tried, he couldn't keep the amused smirk off his face. Someone up there _loved_ him.

The door suddenly swung open and her tiny fist grabbed hold of his shirt collar and pulled sharply. "Get in here. You better not be lying about that jersey, twenty-three."

* * *

"Hey."

She was snuggled into his side on their comfortable couch, her with a pile of essays to grade and him with an open playbook and a finger on the channel buttons. "What?" Haley murmured, distracted. Her newly acquired reading glasses slipped and, irritated, she pushed them up once more.

"Don't sigh like that. They're cute," Nathan responded, squeezing her shoulder.

"Cute? From the guy who practically mauls me in bed every night? Nice," she snorted in amusement and he chuckled deeply in response. "Were you going to ask me something?"

"Yeah," he paused for a moment, weighing the question in his mind. Really, it'd been one of the first times he'd ever given legitimate thought to the idea. But Bill's off-hand reference (The coach was happily married himself with a son and daughter and thoroughly amused by his former playboy player immersed in a committed relationship) to Haley as "the ball and chain" had set his mind off on a tangent all throughout the earlier staff meeting. "Have you ever thought about getting married?"

Haley froze the second the last word started to leave his mouth and noticed that he, too, tensed immediately after her. "Yeah, of course," she managed shakily.

"Any, you know, deep thoughts on that?" Nathan tried for casual but knew he failed.

"Okay, look," Haley started, shuffling her papers to the half of the couch they weren't occupying. "My parents have this absolutely perfect, wonderful marriage, and one would think that would be a great example for their children. Something to aspire to, right?" Nathan nodded in agreement when she stared expectantly. His own parents' failed marriage was his main deterrent in never considering the concept until the blonde in his lap. "We're cursed."

Haley folded her arms and pouted while he let out a few barks of laughter. "Seriously, we are. In order of seniority: Jeremy's been married twice, about to be divorced twice. Vivian's on her third engagement. Quinn is… well, ironically, if she weren't scared of commitment, she would have gotten divorced by now. Elliott has been engaged for five years and going. They've planned two weddings, called both off, and have broken up more times than I can count on both hands. Taylor is a complete commitment-phobe. And I…"

Nathan grabbed both her hands and gently prompted, "You?"

"I've never really had a significant relationship before," Haley admitted with a wry smile, "unless you count my books. Then, yeah, I'm married. Six kids, you'd think one of them would have learnt something and gotten it right by now."

Nathan offered a feeble smile. If his thoughts kept going the way they were, one of them was about to get it right. "So other than this curse, and how much your siblings fail at traditional relationships, what are your thoughts on marriage?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Haley gave a noncommittal shrug before settling back into his side. "Might be nice."

* * *

"Haley once told me she was cursed, but—and she's going to whack me for jinxing this—I never believed her. To be honest, I thought it was because I was the curse, and whoever heard of two cursed people in a successful relationship?

Hales thinks she's cursed because her parents are perfect—and they are—and she could never live up to that. She never wanted to leave, scared that reality would crush her once she stepped foot out of that perfect home. Growing up, my home life wasn't so great, but to everyone else, I had everything. They all thought I was so blessed, and all I thought about was how I couldn't wait to get out.

In college, I did have everything, including enough hot air and stupidity to never talk to the beautiful, smart girl in English class. Every time I saw her, I wondered how I could be such a coward to never even say "hi". Not once could the hotshot work up the nerve. Haley thinks she's cursed because people didn't take the time to notice the beautiful, smart girl in English class. I call that a hell of a lot of luck on my part.

At the time, I ignored my weak spine and got on with life. Then I was injured. Somehow, I ended up coaching and got stuck with this nightmare of a college player. In other words: me. Cursed, right? Can't play yourself _and_ get to watch some hothead, who's just like you were, waste his talent? No, the universe hated me a little more than that. It led me right back to that one girl I could never even say "hi" to. Only this time, I have to say "hi" and she is way less than impressed, calls me out on all my crap as a nightmare college player.

So let's review. Supposedly great, but in reality crappy, childhood. Extreme cowardice when it actually matters, in spite of legendary appearance. Unlucky, career-ending injury. Spoiled brat of a talented player as my protégé. Completely uninterested girl of my dreams. Somehow I overcame all that and won over the beautiful, smart English professor. And after everything, she wants to turn around and tell me that she's cursed.

What was I supposed to say? No, this is true love's fairytale ending. You're the redeeming beauty, who saves me from my curse. Now that I have you, I'm wise, courageous, completely aware of my luck, and about to live out my happily ever after. You can't be cursed. I'm completely unequipped to save you. That means your Prince Charming is yet to come and this stupid, spoiled, egotistical beast does not approve of that fairytale ending. No, I didn't say a thing. I let her believe she was the cursed one, and I was Prince Charming on my trusty horse here to rescue her from her perfect, but confining, tower. That, of course, I could be everything she needed and then some.

Let me tell you. Despite the crap metaphor about fairytales, it worked. Now, marriage is more than "nice" if I say so myself, and you're going to be here in five months.

Ow. What was that for?"

Haley grumped sleepily and then apologetically rubbed the back of his head. "You jinxed us so I whacked you. If we end up divorced and fighting for custody of our child, it's your fault. And that was also the most ridiculous excuse for a fairytale I've ever heard. Where did you even learn half those words?"

"You're being ridiculous, my redeeming beauty," Nathan huffed, pressing his lips to the bare skin of her slightly swelling stomach. "A—I wasn't going to let Quentin of all people sound smarter than me. And B—I happen to think it was a perfectly good tale. Notice no "fairy" because it was real. Me and my trusty horse will be there to rescue you whenever you need it."

Frowning at him, Haley still pressed tighter into his side when he crawled up next to her. "I'm just going to go ahead and ignore the poor grammar littering that response. Trusty horse," she scoffed lightly, "more like massively inflated ego that you just admitted was a sham all along. You're not _equipped_ to rescue me."

"No," Nathan admitted gruffly, "but I am equipped to love you. And this one."

Haley dropped a kiss on his lips and then chuckled lightly, "Damn, you're whipped."

"I like to think of it as educated."


	3. A Unique Case of the Mondays

Silly? Nonsensical? Shabby euphemisms masquerading as vocabulary and allusions? Overdose of old school country music (not that that has to do with anything)? Product of +24 hour sleep deprivation?

Warning: pre- and post-reproductive activities.

**A Unique Case of the Mondays**

If anyone bothered to ask Haley James just what she did on weeknights—in particular the first Monday of May in her very first year of teaching—they'd be utterly astonished at the answer.

No one more so than she.

Her students lacking an active imagination would suppose grading papers with a glass of wine and probably a couple cats. Her students gifted with more colorful hallucinations would venture underground sex clubs and general anarchy. Her colleagues would shrug and assume the same thing they did every weeknight: curse the day they wanted to change the world, one child at a time.

The truth was: usually but without the cats; that was, first, once, second, in college, third, while absolutely trashed, and, fourth, a dare; and only when she had the misfortune of classes with high school jocks reaching the climax of their sexual prowess, so, yes, every weeknight.

That happened to not be the case (of the Mondays) tonight.

* * *

An arm wrapped around her waist, hauling her hips snug against his. His other hand stretched over to grab the edge of the door and slam it shut. A flash of blue was all she caught before slightly chapped lips pressed insistently against hers, already gaping open in surprise. Five slaps with the palms of her hands against a wall of muscle and he finally released her (after managing to curl his tongue around hers and coerce several moans from the back of her throat).

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She reeled back only to find herself already pressed against the closed door and had to shimmy her way out of the confined space. Taking refuge behind the kitchen island, she repeated the question. Nathan merely stared at her with glazed eyes and licked his (reddened and swollen) lips. Self-consciously, Haley swiped a hand over her own. "Well?"

"What's it look like?"

His exasperation was obvious as he cornered her by the microwave. With a slight bend of his knees, he tucked a forearm under her butt and easily lifted her, leaving her limbs to scramble for a hold around his neck and waist, respectively. Her shocked silence followed them all the way into her bedroom.

And, yes, she was extremely put out at having to abandon her glass of wine. Much less so the stack of papers-to-be-graded on _Moby Dick_, half of which were written by the aforementioned jocks and undoubtedly focused on phallic symbolism.

Stupid required reading lists.

* * *

"Uh, hello."

"Hi," he mumbled sleepily into the side of her (sweaty) neck.

"You're kind of heavy," Haley ventured when he remained silent. After a moment, a leg eased off hers but the effect was ruined by his arm dragging her torso further under his. "Nathan."

He grumbled but finally rolled off to the side, leaving his nose pressed against her. "Don't move, 'kay?"

Haley sighed as his hand slid to fondle his favorite part of her body. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sleepy, Hales."

His tongue poked out to lap at her skin, and she shivered in response. It was always ridiculous to her that big man on campus Nathan Scott was the most affectionate cuddler she'd ever known. Not that she'd been personally acquainted with many. "Why do you have a black eye?"

"I got into a fight."

Her eyes widened in alarm. Not that he could see it. "When?"

"Tonight." His response was accompanied by a leg sliding back over hers.

"Tonight? During the game?"

"Yup." When he popped the 'p', she pinched his insolent stomach (amazing abdominals) to keep from being suffocated under his migrating body parts.

"You got into a fight during an NBA playoff game with—I'm guessing here—your old college rival, Damien West? You are a stupid man."

"Realized something."

"That you're a stupid man?" He lightly bit the side of her neck in punishment. "Ow. That you're a vampire? Do. Not. Bite. Me."

He nuzzled into her hairline and gave a soft sigh. "Guess again."

" 'Hey, it's been a long time since I banged my ex-girlfriend, and since she was known as the resident bookworm, it's probably been awhile for her, too, so she wouldn't really mind if I just pop over'?"

"I want to marry you."

Her breath caught in her throat and her body stilled even as his thumb rubbed soft circles onto her hip. She forced a chuckle and turned away from him, ignoring how he immediately spooned behind her. "Tonight's been enough of a trip. Let's not be completely delusional."

* * *

Once upon a time, those were the words she wanted to hear most in the world. Once upon a time, she'd snit to his overbearing father that Nathan was twice the man he could only dream of being, and capable of one hundred times the love. Once upon a time, she'd thought her prince was about to propose.

Then he left for the NBA—and left her because he needed to focus—and she barely pulled it together in time to pass her teaching certification. Reality became a modest apartment (upgraded from her college hole-in-the-wall), disgruntled teenagers prone to histrionics, atrocious coffee in the teacher's lounge, and a five a.m. alarm for seven a.m. homeroom.

Her hand lazily fumbled around the bedside table for said alarm and finally slapped down on the clock-radio. There was a flurry of movement behind her, and she whipped her head around to find a naked and disoriented Nathan Scott staring back at her, and gagging on a mouthful of her long hair.

"Shit, Hales, wha' time's it?" he grouched and then fell face first onto her pillow once more.

Haley took advantage of his sightlessness to scramble for the robe hanging off her bedroom door. "Nath—" Her eyes swept over the state of her room, and she realized that her original question was moot. "What are you still doing here?"

His head rose ever so slowly from her pillow and chanced a glance at her clock. "You've got to be kidding me." To her shock (and admiration), he dragged his (buck naked) body out of her bed and proceeded to rifle through his jacket. He gave a grunt of satisfaction when his hand closed over something and quickly approached her, dropping to one knee.

His large fingers prodded at the seam of the velvet box until he could pry it open. "Will you marry me?" he asked and then pushed the ring right under her nose for inspection.

She gaped ever so obviously at him, glanced down and then immediately back up to the ceiling. "You're naked!"

"Well, yeah. You sounded pissed. Didn't think I had the time to get dressed." He cast a slow glance around the room and the scattered clothing and gave her a wide smirk.

Haley's eyes grew and she snapped, "Well, you do." Her dismissal was punctuated by storming off into the kitchen.

Nathan followed seconds later, given that his idea of dressed amounted to boxers. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"No, because it's ridiculous and I lied. There is such a thing as a stupid question," she snit and violently pushed the glass jug into the coffee maker. "You're mocking me," Haley accused and realized it had absolutely no effect.

He gave her a content smile. "Are you making me coffee?"

"Yes. It's the polite thing to do. Something you wouldn't recognize if it sat on your head." A bolt for the living room immediately followed her retort.

His hand snagged the tie on her robe and dragged her between his legs and the counter. "The polite thing would be to answer my question. I want to marry you. So. Will you?"

"Why would you want to marry me?" Her voice sounded hysterical, and she quickly tamed it. "Why would I want to marry you? I haven't seen you in two years, Nathan. You told me it was a lost cause. That I shouldn't wait around for you. I haven't."

"Are you dating someone?" He scowled then glanced around at their surroundings as if the dishes would tell him if there were a lurking significant other.

But her steamroll was not to be derailed:

"You were the one thing I wanted in the world, which is ridiculous because everyone knows how that turns out. But you were it, alright? I tried damn hard and I got damn close, but it didn't happen. So, instead of torturing myself and the people unfortunate enough to be around me with what could have been, I moved on. You don't get to come here—to my new life—and upend everything I've worked for. You don't."

"I'm not some toy for your amusement. I made your life my life for nearly eight years and this is how you repay me? You all but kick me to the curb, treat me like some parasite who's out to strangle you in your sleep. Then you blow back into my life two years later and expect me to fall at your feet? Get out, Nathan."

His hands instinctively rose to stave off her attack. There was already damage to his moneymaker – a split lip, partially swollen nose, and a black eye to be exact – and he was sure she'd regret doing any more once she forgave him. His hold on her wrists was firm but gentle when he twisted her around to press her against the counter. Shoddy as his proposal plans were, they didn't include manhandling.

"Look, you can stay still and let me talk or keep squirming and risk counter sex." The surprised squeak told him that low and gravelly definitely still had its intended effect.

"Do you know why I fought West? You know what he has on me that no one else in the NBA does? You." Her squawk of protest was cut off by a roll of his hips. "I didn't believe him. Even if you two are living in the same city, there's no way you'd let slime like that touch you."

"I don't know. It was pretty easy for you to ambush my apartment and drag me to bed," she scoffed, rolling her eyes at his hiss of unbridled jealously. "Do you have a point? This position isn't entirely comfortable, you know."

"I didn't punch West because I was mad at him. I was mad at myself. Two years later and I'm still pissed like hell because I let you go. He just had to go and bring it up. It's not regret, it's not wishful thinking, or whatever you've got in your head. I legitimately want to go back and strangle myself for thinking that life could be alright without you."

"Listen, I'm injured, suspended, fined, and probably benched. Do you know what I did after that? After I ruined my career and reputation? I called Luke and begged him for your address. I went to a jeweler and bought that ring. I drove two hours in traffic to get here. I get that I screwed up. Bad doesn't even cover it, I know. But I've spent the last two years regretting it, and you've spent two years trying to forget it. I don't want to keep living like that. End it for us, Hales. Say yes."

"First of all, let go of me you hulking Neanderthal. I'm not going to try and hit you again." Haley spun around only to face his crossed arms and drawn brow. "Yeah, why don't you grunt a bit, too?" she threw in under her breath and matched his scowl.

"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to shower and go to work; you are going to sort out the mess you made of your career. Tonight, there will be clothes – a suit if you can, and a blue tie – and possibly a dinner reservation. Then you can try this over."

The staring contest ended when he grunted out, "Fine." Then, with a bend of his knees, he hauled her over his shoulder. Her shocked silence followed them all the way into her shower.


End file.
